Childhood Demons
by Ed's Tomato
Summary: A fourteen year old Toad comes to live with the Brotherhood.
1. Chapter 1

--Well firstly I dont' own any of these guys, but honestly...if I could have like...a couple hours with Toad..the grown up Toad...oh baby oh baby...anyway, I'll stop being a perv. Rated for violence, language and some adult themes, makes you squimish, RUN AWAY RUN AWAY. love it, hate it, rate it!

--This idea came to me when I was RPing with a friend of mine (shut up, I know I'm nerdy) and I had to make up some extra backstory for Toad...Haaaa cha cha--

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He ran the dirty streets of London like he was familiar with the filth. Embraced it. The filth wouldn't hit, or call names. The filth kept the others at bay, it was his ally.

But sometimes it wasn't enough.

His hood was drawn up over his head, casting his face in shadows. He was thin, too thin. Short, but wiry, as he dashed along the alleyways making his escape. He shivered in the cold away from the warm vent that usually kept him comfortable in the London nights.

He was being chased.

His feet were bare and his whole body winced as he splashed through a puddle that soaked him to the ankle. He turned a corner, hearing the laughter behind him. For them it was a game, for him it was his life.

A beer bottle was thrown, catching him in the shoulder and sending him sprawling upon the muck of the back city streets. They advanced on his prone form as he scrambled to get back to his feet, but ended up just cowering before them.

They laughed, calling him a thief and a freak, calling him any number of things that he might have been, but they'd never know him enough to know. The shatter of a glass bottle and they advanced, swinging it before them, sharp and ominous.

A shadow fell over them.

A man cleared his throat, and the boys looked up to see him, their faced lined with shock and awe. The man clenched his fist and a metal dumpster began to twist and writhe toward them. Like the cowards they were, they ran away.

The boy was left to look up at the God, afraid to peer to closely at his awesome brilliance. He had saved him. The boy nobody wanted. Toad.

Magneto's feet touched the ground and he approached the youth, kneeling to make eye contact. His glittering eyes hidden beneath the folds of his hood, wide eyed and frightened.

"I am here for you child."

Tears ran over the filth covering his face, leaving clean wet trails, his wide eyes never leaving Magneto's face. His small hands shook as he reached out toward him. His savior, his God.

Magneto's hand found his shoulder, leading him closer, pulling him into the embrace he so desperately needed. The little boy's slender arms found their way around his middle and he pressed his face against the man's chest. He was saved.

A hand still on the boy's shoulder, Magneto rose into the air, taking him away from the filth and the film of the city streets and to a boat he had waiting. The boy finally let his savior go and huddled in the bottom of the boat, nervous and cold. A big man had dropped a blanket over him and gone to pilot the ship.

Magneto sat apart, apparently thinking, though he cast a warm glance at the young boy huddled beneath the large blanket from time to time. Not a word did any of them exchange. The young boy eventually fell asleep, one hand clutching the blanket like the child he'd never gotten to be.

When he woke they'd reached the land, and the wide-eyed youth followed the two older men onto the dock. It looked like an island. The boy pulled the blanket around himself, padding with bare feet up over the sand after them.

A building was carefully hidden along the side of a mountain. It looked to be made entirely of metal. The boy entered after he was beckoned to do so, his small face lighting up at seeing the grand inside of the place.

Magneto led the youth into his office where he sat in the chair behind a large desk and motioned for the boy to sit across from him. He took a tentative seat, his eyes glowing luminous and overlarge still beneath the shadow of the hood he always wore.

"I have been looking for you since you ran away from the orphanage, Mortimer."

The boy paled, eyes darting around the room for a way out. Was he sending him back to the orphanage?

"It's alright child. No one will hurt you here."

Mortimer wanted to believe. Wanted it so bad. His little hands shook, staring at Magneto with wide eyes, begging him to make it true.

"This is a safe place for mutants, Mortimer. That is what you are…a mutant…and what I am."

His head cocked to the side, trying to sort out the word, and how he could have anything in common with this God.

"You're tired…we can talk later, just know you are safe here, Mortimer. No one will harm you."

He motioned to a corner Mortimer hadn't noticed and a woman stepped out of the shadows. Blue and scaled, she walked with a sinewy predatory gate toward the small boy. His eyes were huge.

"Get him cleaned up, and something to eat," Magneto ordered and she nodded, approaching him.

She knelt and took his hand.

"It's alright, I'm Mystique…I'm like you are."

Mortimer nodded. He'd never seen anyone who was blue before. She was beautiful, but she was different, like him. Maybe he would be safe here. He let her take his hand, which was a new experience for him, and lead him to a bathroom.

She reached to push down his hood and got a good look at him for the first time. Face too thin, cheeks sunken in with hunger, circles around his eyes darker with fatigue. Skin a sickly yellowish-green, but she assumed that was part of his mutation. His eyes were overlarge and liquid gold and black. The eyes of a Toad. Beautiful eyes.

She unzipped his sweatshirt, pushing it over his shoulders to the floor, and he shivered, looking at her with wide trusting eyes. Her eyes took in his body, ribs showing through cleanly, obviously malnourished.

"After we clean you up, I'll make you some dinner, what would you like?"

Mortimer was unresponsive, except for a questioning look. Mystique almost wondered if he could even speak.

Her hands went to his pant's fly and he shied back from her, shaking hard.

"Don' touch me," he begged, his accent soft and frightened.

Mystique watched him worriedly, "Mortimer? I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't want to do that," He whispered.

Mystique's eyes narrowed, wondering who had used him in the past to make him so leery.

"I'm not going to touch you, I promise. We're just gonna clean up." She moved to turn on the bathwater and when she turned back he'd taken off his pants and stood there, terrified, but trying to be brave.

She smiled at him, trying not to let her eyes focus on his battered body, so obviously misused. She motioned him into the tub and he did as she bid, and let her soap him up, washing away the grime.

She grinned, " I knew there was a boy under all that muck."

Mortimer smiled too, something new for him. She lathered his hair and her touch felt so nice. Tears ran down his cheeks again, and she sighed, her face creased with worry.

"Everything will be alright now, Mortimer."

He moved forward quickly, as though not wanting the chance to change his mind, and wrapped his thin little arms around her, his head on her chest.

She held him as he cried in relief, and when it was over she finished washing him and dried him with a warm fluffy towel.

He looked considerably better. Eyes brighter, skin glowing, and smiling as she put him in some of Vic's old clothing. It was far too large for him, but at least it was clean and she could roll up the cuffs to fit better.

She led him to the kitchen where he plopped down, looking happy in one of the chairs as she searched the cupboard for something to feed him. It needed to be something nutritious, by the look of him.

Mystique wasn't the most accomplished of chef's but she got him an apple while she searched the fridge for something to make. She finally settled on steak. It was Vic's, but he'd get over it. And it looked like the kid could use some protein.

She cooked it, watching him chew on the apple amusedly. He looked younger than the fourteen years old, Magneto said he was; probably from being both a social outcast and a victim of malnutrition.

She set the plate down in front of him and he went to work on it with his hands, furiously. He was so hungry. With a frown she started looking for something to make a salad with, he was going through that steak fast.

"Take it easy, you don't want to get sick."

His eyes widened and he tried to do as she asked, it was just so good. It was the first thing he'd eaten in the last year that wasn't trash.

When he'd finished the steak and the salad and another apple, he sat back looking pleased, his eyes sparkling with pleasure.

Mystique sat down, looking at him. He licked his fingers, and she could have sworn the tongue she saw poking out was green. She reached out a hand to ruffle his long dark green hair.

"You need a haircut, my friend, you are positively shaggy."

He grinned at her, his whole face lighting up.

"You'd give me a 'aircut?" He looked so excited.

"It would be a crime not to," she led him into the kitchen and searched the drawer for scissors. She didn't have too much experience cutting hair, but she did a decent job, leaving him with something short and spiky that kids his age usually liked.

He went to the mirror afterward and didn't say a word for a long time, just staring. Finally he looked back at her.

"I look different, but I still look like a Toad." He looked disappointed, like he'd expected things to get better. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"You look very handsome, Mortimer."

He shrugged, not really believing her. How could he? He could see himself in the mirror and he'd been told his whole life it wasn't the right way to look. Mystique sighed and led him to a bedroom, tucking him into the warm sheets.

"Things will be better, Mort, I promise."

He nodded, his eyes already closing. She shut the door already hearing a light snore issuing from the room.


	2. Chapter 2

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Mortimer got better. His frame filled out a little, though he was still lanky. He lost the gaunt look, and his skin still yellow-green, looked less sickly. He still didn't talk much, but he stopped being quite so jumpy in the presence of the other Brotherhood members.

He'd begun training with Mystique and Sabretooth and was becoming quite proficient at hand-to-hand combat. He still shied away from touch, but as the rest of the Brotherhood members weren't all that touchy-feely either it didn't come up much.

Magneto had ordered clothes to fit the young man, dark baggy things that he'd asked for as soon as he was sure he was actually allowed to ask for anything. He'd also developed a little bit of a dark sense of humor that worried Mystique from time to time.

When he fought against the practice dummies, he had a singular purpose. She could almost see the faces of people who'd wronged him as he lashed out. And she could hear him muttering to himself, laughing.

He came into the common room where Sabretooth was watching television and dropped down on the couch, putting his feet on the coffee table. Mystique watched him from the kitchen, and had to suppress the urge to tell him to get his boots off the table. That happened a lot, suppressing mothering instincts.

Mortimer didn't have anyone else, and while she was more than happy to be his teacher and his friend, she shied away from becoming too much of a mother figure to him.

She was saved by Sabretooth grunting that 'if he didn't get his muddy boots off the coffee table he'd be eating them'. Good old Vic. Mortimer hurried to comply, still not completely sure of his station in the Brotherhood and wary of it suddenly being revoked.

That's when the alarm went off.

The three of them hurried to Magneto's office, where he stood waiting. It was the Friends of Humanity. They'd attacked a mutant refuge camp in the sewer and the mutants were being slaughtered. It would be Mortimer's first mission.

Mystique watched him with trepidation as they dashed toward the hanger. She wasn't sure he was ready.

She needn't have worried.

He fought as though he was possessed. When she heard the first neck crack she stared at him, but he seemed unscathed by the fact he'd just killed someone. His legs flew as he jumped and kicked and snapped.

Seeing that Toad and Sabretooth had the FOH under control, she moved to get the mutants to safety. Many of them had been killed but the remainder dashed out when the opportunity was presented and managed to make it to shelter.

She went back to killing, her eyes remaining trained on Mortimer's flying form. He'd chosen the codename Toad himself. Magneto had tried to dissuade him from it, but he'd only set his face dark and resolutely, the only time he'd ever been stubborn toward Magneto.

Now, she understood why. She could practically see him chanting it in his mind as he killed them. You called me Toad.

It was a bloodbath.

Toad kicked in the head of a young man and vaulted over his falling body to find another. Two more men went down as Toad's whip-like tongue lashed out to strangle one as he kicked in the throat of the other, and Toad spun in a crouch, eyes darting around for more.

An older looking man, more dressed for military manouvers that simple slaughter leveled a gun at Toad's head as he crouched there, and he suddenly looked like the child he was, eyes wide. He was rooted to the spot and too terrified to move.

Mystique moved toward him, but she was too far away. Three men died in an instant as she plowed her way through to get to the young man, but it was Sabretooth that appeared behind the gun-wielding FOH member. Toad had time to blink before Sabretooth let out a mighty roar, ripping both of the man's arms off in a single horrible thrust.

Toad sat motionless, barely breathing, face pale in apparently shock. Sabretooth grunted something and when he was still unresponsive, picked him up and tossed him over his shoulder as he made his way toward the door.

They could already hear the scream of sirens approaching.

They reached the helicopter and took off; Toad crouched in the back, staring at his hands that were covered in blood. Mystique glanced back concernedly, but she was busy piloting. She met Sabretooth's gaze and he rolled his eyes with a snort, but went to check on him.

"You okay, kid?"

Toad looked up, appearing disoriented. The bigger man put a clawed hand on his shoulder, crouching in front of him.

"Get a grip."

"Was that real? Did I kill all those people?"

Sabretooth glanced up at Mystique for help.

"Toad…hang on, we'll be home soon."

"Don't call me that," His voice shot up an octave, panicked, he scurried backward against the wall.

Sabretooth sat next to him with an audible sigh, keeping an eye on him, but not sure how to fix what was wrong. He took him by the wrist and wiped the blood off his hands onto his shirt.

Toad sat motionless while he worked, but began crying when he had finished. Big horrified tears plowed down his face from wide-staring eyes. Before Sabretooth could edge uncomfortably away Toad had latched onto him and buried his face in the bigger man's fur.

Sabretooth's first instinct was to shove the kid away, but Mystique shot him a look and he just rolled his eyes and let him stay. When they landed, he picked Toad up and carried him back into the compound toward the Med Bay.

Magneto stood near the door conversing quietly with Mystique as Sabretooth carried the kid inside.

"How did he do?"

"He did really well until someone pulled a gun on him. Then he froze up. He broke down on the way home."

Magneto nodded. He wasn't surprised. He'd had his misgivings about starting the child so young, but it had to begin sometime.

Mystique went to the Med Bay to find that Sabretooth had shoved Toad under the shower, fully clothed, to rinse off the blood. Mystique suppressed a smile.

"Are you hurt anywhere?"

Toad shook his head, sputtering under the cold stream of water.

"Then go get changed."

Toad cringed, and scurried off toward his room. The expression on his face that of a beaten dog's.

"What did you say to him?" She demanded of Sabretooth, but the big man just shrugged.

"Didn't say anything."

Mystique brought a hand to her head and rubbed her temples. Sometimes she felt like she was the only rational one there. Stepping beneath the water of the shower she rinsed off the blood still coating her body and turned back to Sabretooth who was appreciating the view with a feral smirk.

"What is it about women in the shower?" He growled.

She gave him a dark look; "You should have kept a closer eye on Mortimer."

He shrugged, "Kid was doing alright, thought he could handle it."

He had been doing all right. Even Mystique had been in awe of his prowess. But she thought back upon the training sessions and about Mortimer's obvious vendetta against normal-looking people. He still had a lot of demons to work out.

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Toad sat in the room he'd been given berating himself. His first mission and he'd blown it. If Sabretooth hadn't bailed him out, he'd be dead. Mortimer through his wet clothes in an ever-growing pile by the bed and found clean ones.

He dropped onto the edge of the bed and leaned back going over and over the fighting in his mind. It had been okay at first. Kinda cool. Like in practice, only real life. Then something had happened. He felt all weird and detached and he only realized afterward that he had blood all over him.

Mortimer started shaking. He'd kicked someone's head in. And it had just caved in. There was a sickening noise, like dropping a ball in the mud. He started to giggle, thinking of a ball in the mud and the man's head. His eyeballs bugging out…popping out, with the force of the kick.

He laughed harder, seeing the surprised expression that was permanently affixed to the dead man's face. Then Mortimer turned over and threw up. His fingers gripped the sheets and he couldn't seem to stop until a warm hand was on his shoulder, holding him up and helping him sit back.

"You okay?" Mystique asked, when he'd finally stopped.

Mortimer looked at her weakly, face drawn and pale, and tried to nod. Mystique didn't' say anything as she went to clean up the mess, and he sat there feeling confused and wondering what was wrong with him.


	3. Chapter 3

-Okay a new chapter after...an eon and a half...dunno how muh I like it, but ah well, at least it's an update, right kiddies?-

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Over the years he grew numb to the killing. He had to. What was left of that little kid from the dirty streets of London just wouldn't have been able to deal with the things the man known as Toad did everyday. So he stopped feeling. Stop feeling everything, but a detached amusement, and the darker emotions of hate and jealousy and anger.

A lifetime of torture and abuse will do that to you. Especially when all that's nurtured are the more perverse emotions. It was all Magneto wanted nurtured, to further his cause. He neither saw nor cared what became of the young boy as long as the assassin flourished. And Toad did flourish.

The hate was all that drove him. Mission after mission, life after life that he cut short, it only fueled his determination to punish them all. The odd habits of talking to himself and the practice dummies all but disappeared, but he still laughed when he killed. It became a trademark that anyone who knew him did well to fear.

He enjoyed the slaughter in a way neither Mystique nor Sabretooth fully comprehended. Sabretooth liked a good fight, it was bestial, primal, it was what Sabretooth lived for, but for Toad it was a Vendetta. He couldn't seem to separate those who might wrong him from those who already had. He could not see that there might be exceptions to Magneto's rule.

It worried Mystique. It always had. She'd seen a little of herself in the young boy she'd helped train. The frightened girl, just looking for a place in life. But she'd known joy in her life, albeit borrowed. Her powers would allow her normalcy now if she craved it. She could imagine how depraving it was to never be allowed a single day, a single moment of peace. Toad had no happy memories to look back on, and his future was equally bleak, he fought everyday just to survive.

She's seen his mask break down only a few times in her life with him. Something that would finally reach him and force it to slip, and the helplessness there was terrifying. She didn't know what was worse: the fact that he'd braced himself against feeling anything, or the fact that if he didn't, he would be a broken shell.

He was nineteen when he started using. He'd come across it somewhere. Some normal he'd killed, or maybe one of the dives he frequented to drink. Sabretooth used to go with him, but lately he'd been going alone. Lately Toad avoided the others at all cost. Maybe he thought they didn't know. Hadn't seen the needles. Hadn't guessed at the track marks. Maybe he just couldn't deal with facing them.

Mystique stood in his doorway, leaning on the frame and watching him sit on the edge of his bed, bent over his arm injecting himself with something. Whatever it was he sighed in relief when he'd finished, and tossed the syringe in a growing pile with disregard. He glanced up at her, knowing she'd been there all along. It hadn't done anything to dissuade him from that spike.

"Does it help?" She kept her voice free of the contempt she felt. Contempt would make matters worse.

"Yeh," He breathed, "Makes everything…nice and numb."

Mystique smiled at the honesty that came with being high. Magneto would beat his ass if he knew. If Magneto cared enough to notice. It hadn't affected Toad's work yet, so Magneto hadn't bothered to notice, but if he realized what a loose tongue this stuff would make. She shook her head. Toad wouldn't notice if she looked at him with open disgust right now. The thought disgusted her even more.

She approached him, and knelt in front of where he swayed back and forth on his bed, and captured his chin in a firm grip, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Where is it?" She demanded, keeping her voice flat from all emotion.

He pointed at his dresser drawer, too out of it to argue with her. He probably thought she wanted some. Maybe a long time ago, she would have, now she valued a sharp mind and an able body. She released her grip, letting him fall backward on the bed with a soft thump and went to abscond with his supply.

She left him there, disposed of his stash and went about her day. It was time someone did something about him, and though she hated it, she felt responsible. She was not this boy's mother. She was barely even his friend. She couldn't remember the last time they'd had a real conversation. But something had to be done, or Magneto would dispose of Toad as easily as she had his drugs. Magneto did not tolerate weakness.

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It was evening and Mystique and Sabretooth were in the living area watching the news when Toad appeared; face pale, eyes bloodshot, hands shaking to throw a heavy book at Mystique on the couch. She ducked it easily and was turned and on her feet to approach him before he recovered from the throw.

"Wot th'fuck did you do wif it?" He snarled, the most he'd spoken to her in the last few months.

"Got rid of it," She answered calmly, Sabretooth appearing at her side to break him down with nothing but a look. She hadn't told the bigger mutant what she'd done, but he caught on easily enough.

"FUCKING BITCH," Toad screamed, and turned on his heel to storm down the hall toward the hanger. Planning, no doubt, to just replenish his stock.

Sabretooth's large heavily clawed hand caught him by the collar and lifted him to dangle in the air and look him in the eye. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. That look conveyed enough. Toad was not leaving.

Toad swung in his grip impatiently, attempting to squirm his way free or beat back the older man if he could. The drugs had made him sloppy and Sabretooth laughed with scorn, throwing him at the wall hard enough to knock him out. A quick thud and Toad was slumped on the ground, Mystique bending over him, checking his pulse.

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When he came to again he was in his own bathroom, a cold washcloth on his head and Sabretooth sitting against the door and reading a magazine. Toad was trembling all over, a thin layer of sweat covering his whole body. He retched, and wrapped an arm around his middle, barely able to even hold himself up as he leaned over the toilet. Tears streamed down his face as he got sick too many times to keep track of, and then curled up on the cold tiles shivering.

Sabretooth made no move to help him. He'd just have to make it on his own. He was there to make sure Toad didn't go anywhere and that was all. He flipped the page of his magazine and glanced up to see glazed eyes looking up at him with pure hatred.

He chuckled and shook his head, amused. Addicts were amusing. Pathetic. Toad would get over this or he'd die. There was no alternative.

Toad retched long into the night, long after anything had stopped coming up. He could no longer hold himself up but he cried and he screamed and he cursed, and Sabretooth did nothing. He didn't sleep, couldn't sleep, wide, terrified eyes jumping at every imagined shadow.

When sunlight streamed through the tiny window near the ceiling, Sabretooth yawned and stretched and looked over at the huddled mass on the floor.

"Get in the shower," He ordered, to which he received no response.

Toad was still awake, shivering and burning with fever, curled into the fetal position on an undoubtedly disgusting bathroom floor.

"Now Toad," Sabretooth gave him one last attempt at dignity, which was ignored, before getting up and turning on the water himself.

He yanked the young man to his feet, though he could barely stand on them, and pulled off his shirt. He stood back expecting Toad to do the rest, but he swayed and nearly crashed to the floor again. Sabretooth made a grim face and caught him by the shoulder.

"Take off your pants, Mortimer," his tone left no room for argument. In fact, if Toad had been coherent enough for thought, he would have realized that it was the first time Sabretooth had ever called him by his real name, and that probably would have scared him.

Toad fumbled with the fly, taking forever but finally slipping out of his clothes and attempting to do as he was ordered. He couldn't stand in the shower, but crouched at the bottom of the tub, wrapping his arms around his knees and staring at the water rushing down the drain.

After awhile he started to look a little better. His eyes, though still bloodshot and exhausted, had lost the dazed look to them. The trembling was still there, but it was more controlled. He'd stopped retching every few minutes.

Sabretooth watched him until that point and leaning on the countertop, stared down at the young man.

"You ever do this shit again, and Magneto will have me kill you. You understand that, runt?" There was no amusement in his voice now; he was deadly serious.

Toad didn't move for a moment and then he nodded.

Sabretooth didn't mince any more words, but opened the bathroom door and let himself out. He'd done his part. If the kid fucked up again it would be on his own head. Fond of him or not, if he became a liability, Vic would kill Toad without a second thought.

Well, Sabretooth amended his thoughts, maybe not without a second thought, which was about as high in his esteem as anyone but Mystique got. He'd done most of this babysitting for her. Didn't like to admit it, but he hated to see her upset, and he had a feeling he knew what she felt for Toad, but tried to hide. It had been difficult for her to give away her child...their child, he reminded himself. But it had been human. And Sabretooth was full aware the repercussions of that.

Still, Toad was a grown man now, and if he didn't stop making mistakes, he wasn't going to grow much older.


End file.
